


Somewhere In Between

by nemui (ribbonelle)



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, switching POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbonelle/pseuds/nemui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not love, or hate. It’s probably on the thin line that separates the two, but that, is somehow enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere In Between

**Author's Note:**

> it's not too good, but i felt like writing about these two. i'm thinking itachi's OOC, so apologies for that. concrit is very, very welcome, or just you know. thoughts.

He looks beautiful like this, ephemeral. His tied up hair catches over on itself, from how ridiculously high he’s got it tied up and blonde strands whip around in the air, like gold. His smile is wide, feral, and the colour on his cheekbones makes him look like a doll come to life, the light in his eyes too bright to be childlike. He’s too pretty for words and you are not sure if you want to watch him forever or to rip the prettiness out of his face.

You kiss him instead, a surge forward and your lips meet. He jumps a little, startled, but kisses you back eagerly, and you feel him close his eyes, his lashes sweeping over your skin. His lips are chapped, you note that with some sort of sick fascination that he might not as perfect as he looks. He makes a noise, though, deep and wanton and suddenly perfection doesn’t matter anymore.

You have had people inform you of your own looks, about your beauty, but you think in comparison to Deidara, you are submerged in the shadows. He shines bright like fire, burns everything that so much as looks at him with enthusiasm and passion, and much more literally, bombs. He kisses like fire too, as he opens his mouth like he’s going to devour you whole and leave you as nothing more but ashes.

Sometimes you think he still harbours hatred for you. Sometimes you think he’s just biding his time till he sets out to utterly destroy you. That will never happen, due to the differences in your abilities, but you believe he could do it if he really wanted to. Maybe not physically. But he could murder you emotionally, that wouldn’t be a doubt.

Deidara pulls back after a hard bite to your bottom lip, his smile still very wide, uncovered eye still very bright. “Watch, Itachi. Say whatever you want, but I doubt you could replicate an explosion like this one, un.”

You watch to appease him, less out of curiosity because you do know that you probably can’t blow things up the way he does. No one really does things the way Deidara does, not even yourself, and you wish he would realize that you think so.

But Deidara is Deidara, and once he’s got his mind set on a notion; like the notion of you not respecting his art; he will cling onto it like a lifeline. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did set out to ruin you someday. (Maybe he’s already started.)

The explosion is very impressive, a collision of red and purple and yellow and blue with a sound loud enough to be heard from three villages from this secluded area, and it almost grazes the clay bird you and Deidara stood on, in the sky. He holds your hand while it happens, like lovers watching fireworks, the lips on his hand chastely kissing your palm.

You look at him long before the explosion is over, noting how the light dances over his features and how manic his grin seems, how fucking gorgeous he is even when there is something akin to madness in his eyes. Sometimes you think you’re in love. Most of the time you convince yourself it’s mostly appreciation of beauty, nothing more nothing less.

He turns to you then, when it’s over, a smug smile making him look mischievous. There’s an unspoken, ‘Well?’ in his expression, and you let yourself smile just a little, too.

“That was beautiful, Deidara.”

It’s as if you slapped him, from how shell-shocked he looks after your little compliment, and you wonder if you’ve messed things out of equilibrium for him. You sort of want to know what it’s like to see Deidara as a confused mess. But instead, his smile comes back with a vengeance and he wraps his arms around you to pull you into the hungriest kiss you two have shared yet. He pulls you down on top of him, his blonde hair a wild contrast to the white of the clay bird, and you have never seen Deidara at such ease with everything.

“Want you,” he murmurs, and you oblige, leaning down to capture his lips once again, letting your hands wander. It’s time to appreciate true beauty, not the explosions, not sceneries, not anything else aside from the creature lying underneath you with his bright eyes and starburst hair.

Sometimes you think you’re in love.

//

You hate him, you loathe him, you definitely despise the _shit_ out of him but oh, _oh--._

“ _Itachi,_ ” you groan out his name in a way that would have mortified you in an instant, if he wasn’t biting at your neck and rubbing at your crotch frustratingly slow. He knows you want it faster; your hips are bucking up frantically but no. Of course not. The son of a bitch.

Itachi has this weird habit of just watching you as he teases you, probably reveling in the idea of being the dominant one. You don’t care, usually, he’s too good a fuck to be picky, There’s also other reasons that you wouldn’t ever analyse, not even in your head (maybe someday), but it’s not the time to think of those.

Or maybe it is the time to remember why you’re willing to put up with this, because he’s definitely taking his sweet time in building you up. You slide a leg over his hip, hooking it around the back of his knee to pull him close. Pathetic attempts at seduction. You lick your lips anyway, the teeth on your left hand biting at his fishnet shirt, pulling it up.

Pathetic or not, it seems to have an effect on Itachi. He shudders visibly, letting you pull him closer, lifting his head up to look at you, black pupils dilated with desire. You know he wants you, probably a little less than how much you want him, but it satisfies you nevertheless. The so-called invincible Sharingan user, the Uchiha prodigy, desiring you just as much as the hungry desire sustenance. You could preen because of that knowledge.

Your eyes lock on to each other for a while; only an eye in your case, your scope is still on, there’s no way in hell will you take it off when you’re with him; and he leans to kiss you sweetly. Chastely, even if his hand is still palming you through your pants. You roll your hips up, your hands moving even further down to nip and drag tongues over his ass, leaving damp spots on his own clothing. He makes an irritated noise into your mouth and you chuckle into his. Itachi could get so prissy even during sex, it’s almost adorable. You try not to think about that as you remind yourself that you hate him.

You’re far off the Akatsuki base, up high enough so no one could be too suspicious when there’s an unmoving shadow of a bird seen from down below, so you take advantage of that fact. You moan loudly when he slots his body over yours, and it makes him pull back a little, frowning. You simply grin, challenging, “You’re too slow. Thought I’d speed things up.”

“By yelling? I don’t think that would help much, Deidara. In fact,” his fingers slide up the side of your inner thigh before slipping into the waistband of your pants, caressing your hipbone, “If you keep quiet, I promise to not tease you so much.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. But you know Itachi enough by now to understand that when he uses the word ‘promise’, he usually means serious business. You don’t agree, nor do you tell him no, but you lift your chin up in a manner of challenge and he gives you a ghost of a smile, his cold fingers making contact with your heated flesh.

His fingers are so damn cold, and it’s a huge contrast with the state of your cock. Your head falls back and your mouth drops open in a wordless gasp, as quiet as you could allow yourself to be. You know he’s watching your expression, probably one of rapture and it burns you with shame. It doesn’t matter. You want him to fuck you still.

He’s smiling, the absolute fucker, dragging his chilly fingertips up and down your length and you’re trying so hard not to rut against his fingers, the contact not enough. You reach up and bite at his neck as retaliation and the noise he makes at that is so hot you could explode. (Wouldn’t that be grand?) You lave your tongue over the bite like an apology; you’d never say it to his face; and finally, he wraps long fingers around you and tugs gently.

You’ve been told that you’re noisy, but you have no shame in asking for what you want and vocalizing your pleasure. Especially this far from any other human being, where no one can hear.  Itachi hums in appreciation and you let your head fall back to look at him, still surprised at the little unguarded smile he gives you.

Sometimes you think you hate him just a little less than you thought.

//

The two figures lay on the large, white bird-like sculpture hovering in the air, their breathing materializing as water vapour mid-air. It is cold enough for that, but neither of them felt chilly. Warmed up to their bones because of recent events.

They don’t cuddle; Deidara would rather plummet to his death than cuddle, Itachi knows; but their hands are touching, their legs lined up alongside each other.

“Mmn,” the blonde finally makes a noise, inappropriate as ever, “Just what I needed.”

Itachi lifts his head, his black hair a veil over the side of his face and he sounds unusually amused, “Glad I could provide, then.”

Deidara snorts in reply, absently swatting at Itachi’s shoulder. Itachi has a rare smile curving his lips as well, and he pushes himself up on his elbows to lean over Deidara’s face, making their eyes meet. They look at each other for a long time, blue eye staring into black ones, and Deidara wonders when was it that Itachi decided to stop using the Sharingan in his company.

He doesn’t know that it’s not that Itachi doesn’t want to, he couldn’t, the Sharingan puts too much strain on his eyes nowadays. Given the chance, he would always have red pupils with Deidara. The ability enables him to see even the smallest details in Deidara’s face, amplify the beauty and perfection. But it might just be better off this way.

Itachi leans in, finally, to kiss Deidara and he meets Itachi halfway, eyes falling close and mouth parting to welcome soft lips.

It’s not love, or hate. It’s probably on the thin line that separates the two, but that, is somehow enough.


End file.
